California Dreaming
by milkshake42
Summary: Sam gets a call from his old college buddy, but the Winchesters get more than they bargained for when they pay her a visit.
1. Another Crappy Motel

**First off, a good ol' confession: I have published this story before, but back then it was at least 16 pages long and in one go. No one really read it, and I don't blame them. But I liked the story line, so I give the very-edited-and-pulled-to-pieces-improved version of 'California Dreaming'! **

**All I own is series one (and of yesterday!) two of this amazing TV show, AKA Eric Kripke owns all. Apart from Gemma. She's mine MWHAHAHA! (sorry...)**

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><p>Dean hated Crossroad Demons. They were annoying, stupid, and they did nothing but waste his time. <em>Never in a million years will I make a deal with one of those things<em>, he thought to himself as he took a drink from his fourth or fifth beer. _Actually, better make that ten million years._

The reason he was thinking about this certain type of demon was because he and Sam had just finished a case with them. A few idiots had decided that they wanted to be really good at what they were really crap at, and had summoned the suckers using a few dark bits and bobs. Even though they had managed to save a man from being mauled to death by a _really_ mad invisible dog, Dean knew that it wouldn't be the last time he would hear of them.

"People are crazy," Dean thought aloud. He then proceeded to drain his bottle in one.

Sam glanced up from a book he was reading and laughed. He could see his brother was drunk, heck, even a blind man would be able to see that Dean was drunk, but he decided to play along. "And why's that, Dean? Why are we 'crazy'?"

Dean narrowed his eyes as he tried to decide what Sam to talk to. They were all floating around each other, and Dean shook his head until the real one came into focus. "Cause we are."

Sam laughed again and turned back to his book. "Whatever, man, whatever." But Sam still had to agree with Dean. The last case had troubled him a little more than he would ever let on. It puzzled him what people would do for wealth, fortune and fame. _People _are _crazy_.

Dean watched his little brother read for a bit, but got bored after a while. _He is such a nerd!_ He thought grumpily. "Why do we never do anything fun?" he asked, pulling up a chair at their current motel's dining room table. He flopped onto the seat and rested his heads on his crossed arms.

"Uh, because we're usually working."

"Yeah, so? Why can't we go to a bar, or meet some ladies once in a while? Why do we have to spend every night together in a motel room?" Dean unsuccessfully suppressed a shudder. "That sounds dirty."

Sam pulled a face and closed his book and committed the page number to memory in the process. "Alright. Tomorrow night, you, me, we'll hit a bar. Just as long as you promise to behave and not set me up with anyone again." He got up and grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge. "I don't think I'll ever get over Freddie."

"Hey, he looked interested in you," Dean sniggered, taking one of the beers. He slammed its top against the table to get rid of the lid and grinned as he raised it to his lips. "He was better than anything you've had recently."

Sam decided to play the maturity card and rolled his eyes. He then re-opened the book about Norse Folklore and Mythology that Bobby had asked him to do some research on. He had agreed half-heartedly when he had been assigned the task. No matter how many jokes Dean cracked, reading about Norse gods was _not_ one of his top ten favorite things to do.

So he was slightly relieved to put the book down when his phone went off. "Hello?" he said into it, standing and walking into the bedroom for some privacy.

Dean watched his brother go as he took another drink. Sam had matured -hunting wise- in the past year and a half, and he was proud of his baby brother. Not that he would ever admit it. _It depends how drunk I am. Hey, maybe I should bring it up tonight!_ Dean laughed at his own joke, but stopped when he heard Sam's conversation.

"What are the doctors saying?" Pause. "Are they sure?"

Dean heard the bed creak as it took Sam's weight, and it was then that he realized something must be wrong.

"Yeah…yeah…OK. I'll see you soon. Take care of yourself."

Dean heard sniffling coming from the other room. _Something must be _really_ wrong._ He tried to decide if he should go through and comfort the younger man when Sam came through. Dean busied himself as Sam wiped at his eyes and only looked up when he was sure the water works had stopped. "What's wrong? Is it Bobby? Is it-"

"No one you know, Dean," Sam reassured him. He then went silent.

"Well, what is it?" Dena pressed. He couldn't stand it whenever he only got half the story.

"It's this girl I went to Stanford with. Gemma Marshall."

"And what, she getting married and that's breaking your heart?" When no reply came, Dean got up and took his brother by the shoulders. "Tell me what's up. I heard something about a doctor."

"She's got terminal cancer," Sam said slowly and carefully. He looked up, and his eyes filled with fresh tears. "She's dying, Dean."

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><p><strong>What did you think? Huh? HUH? Let me know by writing a nicehorrible review! Even one word will do...you know you wanna...**


	2. Blue Lake

**And so we continue...**

**I don't own the Winchesters (frowny face)**

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><p>Dean looked over at Sam's unconscious figure. His baby brother was slumped up against the passenger-seat's door. His face was pressed up against the glass and his heavy breathing caused the whole window steam up. But Dean was glad to see that he was sleeping.<p>

The kid's life had been hard. Well, Dean's hadn't been particularly easy either, but this wasn't the time to be thinking about himself. Anyway, with a dead mother and a slightly obsessive father, growing up was a struggle. _To put it lightly_, Dean added as an afterthought as he rolled down his window a little.

The night enveloped the Impala, making it almost invisible on the empty road. Dean was finding it hard to stay awake. All he wanted to do was pull over at the next motel and sleep for a _very_ long time. But seeing this chic was important to Sam, and what was important to Sam was also important to Dean. So he settled with letting his brother drive as soon as he woke up.

He had rarely seen his brother smile while they were growing up, and he had hardly seen him smile this year. Sam was a hunter, and hunters don't have to time to smile and have a good time. But he was also a human being, and human beings needed time to laugh and relax.

_Man, our lives are confusing. And they kind of suck. But at least Sam had a life for a while._ But that life seemed to have caused Sam more pain than he would have gone through if he had just stuck with hunting. His girlfriend had died, and then he had to leave it all behind. And now this Gemma girl was dying, and Sam was going through the heart-break once again.

Gemma obviously meant a lot to Sam even though she had never been mentioned to Dean before. In fact, Sam cared about her enough that he had almost begged Dean to make the thousand-mile drive from Colorado to California. But he didn't need to beg. Dean only had to take one look at those Puppy-Dog eyes before he had folded.

He glanced down at his watch and sighed. They had been driving for eight hours so far, most of which had been filled with an awkward silence: Dean, not wanting to get onto the subject of feelings, and Sam, not wanting to talk because he was too nervous. They had passed countless towns, fields and people, and were likely to pass through several more before they reached their final destination: Blue Lake, California.

Dean fiddled with the radio's knobs and eventually put in his favorite, over-used cassette: Led Zeppelin. There were about ten more hours before they reached California, so Dean thought one last thing before he became immersed in his music: _Might as well rock out to some tunes while being completely bored!_

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><p>"<em>Please, no!" she begged desperately. She clinged tightly to the man's arm and shut her eyes firmly. Her captor collapsed like a rag-doll, falling to the ground and laying there limply. She ran to a heap that was lying about ten feet away and knelt beside it. "Sam!" she called. "No, not him. Anyone but him. Sam, come quickly!"<em>

_He stumbled towards her, towards the still figure on the ground. It was too still, though. Far too still to be alive. He reached out to turn the man over and found himself looking into Dean's unblinking face. "No," he sobbed, "No!"_

"Sam! Wake up! Sammy!"

Sam wrenched his eyes open and looked around for the reason he felt like he was in a mild earthquake. Dean was frantically shaking his shoulder with a desperate look on his face.

"You OK, little brother?" he asked letting go of his arm and sitting back in his seat. His face relaxed a little when he saw his brother wake up.

Sam nodded shakily. He squinted as he looked at his surroundings. They were parked outside Blue Lake Motel and the afternoon sun was blinding. It was very different from the darkness he had been in just before. _Surely it had just been a dream and not a vision_. "We're here?" he asked, trying to change the subject away from him.

"Nah," Dean said, pulling the keys out of the ignition, "I just drove one thousand miles in the wrong direction. Oops." But his frown didn't match his sarcasm. He sighed and turned back to his brother. "You started freaking me out a few miles back."

"What was I doing?" Sam didn't need Dean to answer the question. He had heard it several times before.

"You started shaking and turned pretty pale. Then you started saying 'No' over and over again. You OK, Sammy? Or are you losing your mind?" If his face could turn anymore serious, it did. "Was it another nightmare?"

"It doesn't matter," Sam replied curtly, getting out the car. He slammed the door shut and went around to the boot.

"Fine then, don't talk about it." Dean said as he joined him. They started over to reception, each only carrying a backpack. Dean decided that they weren't likely to need any weapons since they weren't here for a case, but he still had his usual gun and knife on him. "Let's book in and then visit this girl of yours."

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><p><strong>I 3 critisism! PLease leave me a review and let me know if I should continue...<strong>


	3. Gemma

**Wow, really fast response from some fab people: Thanks Jazygirl15 and Weirdness-is-cool! It's thanks to them two that everyone now gets the third chapter a little earlier than was planned. See, if you review, you get rewarded :)**

**Oh, I forgot to mention before, but this takes place after _'_Crossroad Blues' and 'Croatoan'. I think you all might have realized this by now, but just in case: I don't own the Winchesters. **

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><p>After taking several wrongs turns and a ten-minute argument in which Sam tried to convince Dean that men <em>do<em> stop and ask for directions, they arrived at their destination. Gemma's house was only thirty-minutes from the motel, but the Winchesters took at least an hour.

It was around four PM by this time, and Sam was desperately hoping that she was home. He took in a deep breath and exited the Impala, shutting the door in harmony with Dean.

He unlatched a rusty gate that gave a mournful _creak_ as it swung open that caused Sam to cringe a little. He led his brother up a stony path that was lined with poppies. Weeds were starting to show up among the multicolored flowers, showing that they had been neglected in the past few weeks.

The house that they were walking up to was modest. It's porch supported a swing-seat and a few potted plants. The windows were all open, letting the flow of the afternoon breeze into the brick home. The brothers reached the oak door and Sam raised his hand to knock when Dean grabbed his arm.

"Are you sure that you really want to see this girl?" Dean had been thinking about the pain that Sam would go through when Gemma died throughout the whole car journey. "You don't have to put yourself through this, you know," he said in his most persuasive tone.

Sam smiled, trying to assure Dean that he could be strong. "I said I would come and see her, Dean," he replied, chapping lightly on the door. "Plus, after killing things after all this time, I'm kind of used to the whole dying thing now."

"Just a minute!" A muffled voice called.

Dean wasn't totally convinced by Sam's reassurance, but the Gemma already knew they were here. It was too late to leave now. "Fine. So tell me, Sammy, is this girl hot?"

His question was answered by the door opening to expose a flustered looking woman. Sam had to blink once or twice before he realized that the person he was looking at was indeed Gemma Marshall.

She had the same dark, wavy hair, but instead of flowing down her back like it used to, it was short and tied up. While she was slim at Stanford, she was even thinner now. Her bright green eyes were as stunning as ever, but they had dark circles under them and they had lost their twinkle. The only thing that hadn't seemed to have changed was her height: the top of her head was still just below Sam's shoulder.

Gemma took a minute to digest what she had before her and smiled the same warm smile that used to greet Sam when they met up at lunchtime. She leaned against the doorframe and tilted her pale face to the side. "Sam Winchester?" she asked with a surprised tone, folding her arms across her chest, "When you said 'I'll see you soon', I didn't expect you to turn up on my doorstep a few days later."

"It's good to see you too, Gemma," Sam laughed, reaching down to give her a hug.

She gladly returned it. "I thought you said you were in Colorado when I talked to you?" A frown appeared on her face. "Wait a minute…you did _not_ drive all that way to see me, did you?"

Sam blushed and nodded modestly. Dean tried to hold in a snort of laughter, but the slight sound that escaped earned him a dirty look from Sam.

"You've not changed a bit, Sammy." Gemma complimented, showing her pearly whites off again. She leaned to the side to look behind Sam, thinking that she heard laughter coming from there a few seconds ago. "Um, hi. Sorry, but who're you?" she asked awkwardly.

Dean pushed Sam to the side and held out his hand to the girl that he would definitely class as a 'hot'. "I'm Dean, Sam's older, more mature brother." He received a surprisingly strong handshake and grinned. He now understood why Sam had wanted to travel over a thousand miles to see this girl.

Gemma unsuccessfully suppressed a giggle as she shook his hand. "Gemma." She replied to Dean. She then looked over at Sam. "Why did you never mention this…mature…brother, Sam?"

Dean smile vanished as he let go of Gemma's hand and turned to his brother. The introduction hadn't exactly gone as planned…

All Sam could do was shrug guiltily. "Guess I forgot to mention him…"

Gemma could only laugh. Seeing Sam again had definitely brightened her day, and she couldn't be angry with him no matter how hard she tried. "How on earth do you forget to mention a brother?" she asked, unsuccessfully trying to sound angry. "Do you have any more siblings I should know about?"

When both the brothers shook their heads, Gemma was satisfied. "It's nice to meet you anyway, Dean. Do you guys mind helping me with something?" she asked.

Sam immediately shook his head. "Sure, what is it?" he inquired.

"It's nothing too big…I've just got some boxes that are I can't move. I need to get them into the car so I can take them over to my parents' later. Would you mind helping?" she asked, trying not to sound too desperate. "I've got a six-pack in the fridge if that sweetens the deal?" she offered.

"Sure, we'll help." Sam said. He looked at Dean who nodded. "Where are they?"

Gemma turned to lead them into the house and Sam began to follow when Dean caught his arm. "I thought you kicked the crap out of anyone who called you 'Sammy' who isn't…well, me?"

"Usually, but it's Gemma, Dean." He tried to shake off Dean's hand, but the older Winchester wouldn't let go.

"She didn't even know you had a brother. That's low, Sammy, even for you."

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><p><strong>Reviews=Love (in my opinion anyway...)<strong>


	4. Normal

**Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Whatever floats your boat! I hope you all had a fab time and that Santa gave you whatever you asked for. I got Supernatural seasons 3-6, so guess what I'll be doing in the holidays! I watched _A Very Supernatural Christmas_ last night, and I have to admit when evil Santa kidnaps that kids dad then casually eats a cookie...urgh, it creeps me out! But I guess that means that the writers did their jobs properly. Apart from that, it's one of my favourite episodes. 'If you fudgin touch me again I'll fudgin kill you!'**

**Anyway, here's my present from me to you, plus the guaruntee that this will all be up by the around the new year. Yeah!**

**I still don't own the Winchesters :(**

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><p>"I like Gemma," Dean told Sam while he flopped onto one of the motel's beds as soon as they got back from Gemma's house, "And I see why you do too. But I don't get why you never mentioned me to her."<p>

Sam thought for a moment. "I guess that if you were brought up, she would ask a whole load of questions about my background. You know that it's better and easier to keep one big thing secret rather than have to go into hunting. Jess was the only one who really knew about you and dad, and she didn't even know about you guys until we lived together."

Dean did understand. He let the matter that had been borrowing him all day go.

After they had helped Gemma move some boxes, she had kept her end of the deal. It turned out that she kept more than one case of beer around, and the Winchesters happily helped her drink them. The conversation had been slightly awkward at first, but as time went on and beer bottles were emptied, they couldn't stop talking.

The topic of Gemma's health had been carefully avoided, although she didn't seem to mind questions being asked about it. But the brothers had happily stayed away from the matter.

"I didn't realize that she had introduced you to Jess," Dean said as Sam locked the room's door behind himself.

"Yeah," Sam replied, taking off his boots. He shook his head. "That seemed like a lifetime ago. I actually found out a lot about her tonight." He lay down on the bed and clasped his hands behind his head. "This is nice." he commented while staring intently at the bumpy white ceiling.

"What is?" Dean asked. He was too tired to come up with a snarky comment about how Sam wasn't really doing anything that was particularly 'nice'.

"You know," Sam responded, "Not being on a hunt. Not have to do any research or stakeouts. Just relaxing, downing a few cold ones and catching up with a friend. It almost seems-"

"Normal?" Dean butted in, looking over at Sam. When Sam nodded back, Dean sat up and swung around to face his brother. "Yeah, well, if only." He sighed and massaged his temples. "What time are we meeting her again tomorrow?"

Sam had told Gemma that they would be in town for a few days, and that he wanted to spend as much time as possible with her. She had immediately agreed and had told them to meet her at her favorite diner for breakfast the next day.

"Um, 11am," Sam answered while trying to think of the diner's name, "At…Blue Lake Diner."

"Huh," Dean commented, "Original name seeing as we're in Blue Lake."

They sat in silence for a while, Sam, thinking about Gemma and the list of things they had planned to do over the coming days, and Dean, thinking about the last cliffhanger episode of _Dr. Sexy, MD_.

Sam eventually decided to speak his mind on what was really bugging him. "I'm really gonna miss her when she's gone." He waited for Dean to make some comment like 'No chick-flick moments while I'm in theroom_'_, but the beginning of his brother's answer surprised him.

"Yeah, I'll miss her too," Dean responded, "Well, that is if she doesn't come back and haunt anyone. Goodnight, little brother." And with that, Dean turned off the lamp next to his bed and rolled onto his side. He was snoring within minutes.

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><p><em>The side of his head was caked in a mixture of sweat and mud. There was a bullet wound in his chest, showing that the bullet went straight through his heart and out the other side. Blood was seeping out of it, and although he knew it was completely useless, Sam tried to apply pressure to it. <em>

"_No," he groaned once again, collapsing onto Dean's chest, not caring about the amount of blood that was there. "No…"_

Sam awoke with a start. _Two weird nightmares within twenty-four hours? It _has _to be a vision. _Sam didn't need to convince himself beyond that. He knew as soon as he had had the first dream that it was a vision. _But that doesn't mean I can't do everything in my power to prevent it…_

And part of that was not telling Dean. He didn't want to freak his big brother out, not while they were taking a break for once. No, this vision would be one that only Sam would know about, and it would be one that he would prevent.

_Speaking of Dean…_his bed was empty. "Dean?" Sam called out, looking around the motel room, "Dean!"

But the place felt empty, and when no reply came, Sam realized it _was_ empty. Just to make sure it actually was, he rushed out of bed and did a quick search of the bathroom, the kitchen and the lounge area. But Dean wasn't anywhere.

He picked up his mobile from the bedside table and dialed in Dean's number when he heard someone or something scuffling at the door. Sam reached for his gun and loaded it as quietly as he could. He then aimed it at where the thing's head was most likely to be and rested his finger on the trigger as the door swung open…

"Whoa, Sammy!" Dean said, holding up his hands in surrender the best he could while juggling a paper bag that read _Blue Lake Groceries_. "You tryin' to kill me?"

Sam sighed in frustration as he threw unloaded the gun and threw it onto the bed. "Where have you been, exactly? I was beginning to freak out!" He sat down onto the bed and glared at his brother.

"Sam, it's not the first time I've gone out without your permission, and it damn sure will not be the last," Dean shot back, dumping the bag of food next to the sink. After a minute, he sighed and sat down next to Sam. "Why were you so worked up? I'm a big boy," he said, punching Sam's arm playfully.

"It doesn't matter." Sam replied. He almost didn't want to admit to himself that he was freaked out that the vision had come true, or was at least about to. "Just leave a note next time, OK?"

Dean nodded and walked over to the kitchen. "Whatever. Go get ready. Gemma's expecting us soon."

"Dean, it's ten past nine. We've got ages before we have to go." Sam covered his face as he sneezed. Something in the air didn't seem quite right...

"Wait a minute," he said, walking over to Dean. He put his face closer to his brother and sniffed him.

"Whoa, you're a little _too_ close there, Sammy." Dean retorted, stepping backwards. "It's called 'personal' space for a reason."

But Sam just furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Dean suspiciously. "Are you wearing cologne?"

A guilty look appeared on Dean's face. "Maybe," he replied. "Not like it's against the law or anything-"

"Did you get a haircut?" Sam interrupted. He looked closer at his brother and noticed a few more changes: he was wearing a nice shirt, he had polished his boots and his hair had been carefully spiked up. "What are you up to, Dean?"

"Well, Sammy," Dean explained, clapping him on the shoulder with a smile on his face, "Sometimes you've gotta the extra-mile to impress the ladies."

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><p><strong>Also, before I forget, I'd like to thank you for the great response I'm getting from you guys. Heaps of you have added this to your story alerts or favourite stories, and I'm so glad that you're enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it! <strong>


	5. At The Diner

The Impala pulled up outside of Blue Lake Diner at half past eleven. Sam had taken a while to recover from his vision, but he told Dean that he just had a headache from the alcohol they had had the previous night. Dean accepted it, but he looked slightly suspicious.

The other ten or so minutes had been wasted when Dean once again got lost. "Why is a small town so hard to get around?" he complained several times on the trip. In his opinion, nothing was where it was supposed to be. The diner wasn't between the grocery store and the mechanic's like diners usually were: it was right next to the high school.

Sam carefully climbed out of the Impala. A silver Ford was parked right next to them, and there was barely gap between the two vehicles. He knew that if there was even a tiny scratch on Dean's baby, he would never hear the end of it.

But he successfully made it out. He started the walk up to the diner's door when he noticed Dean was still at the Impala, getting something out of the back seat. "What're you doing?" he asked as he joined his older brother.

Sam's question was answered as Dean straightened up, holding in his arms...a bouquet of white lilies. "Dude, what the heck are those?" Sam asked in amazement at the flowers his brother was holding.

"They're...lilies," he said, trying not to sound too feminine.

"Flowers?" Sam asked in disbelief. "_Really_?" He shook his head as Dean just shrugged and walked back up to the diner's entrance. He then pulled open the door and stood back to let Dean in.

The diner was practically empty. The permanent smell of coffee hung in the air and there were ten or so tables scattered throughout the room. Apart from the Winchesters, there were only three other people in the restaurant: an elderly woman reading the June 1990 version of _Knitting Today_; a stout, greasy man wearing a grubby apron who had to be a waiter and Gemma.

She was sitting at a table that was tucked up in the back corner with a bright pink mug sitting in front of her. Her hair ran down to her shoulders and she was wearing red sweater that really made her eyes stand out. A rather thick book was in her hands and she was reading it intently. Sam and Dean maneuvered through the many chairs and she looked up when she heard the clatter.

"Good for you two to finally make it!" Gemma greeted when she saw them. She closed her novel and pulling up to extra chairs to the rickety table. "Could I have two more coffees over here, please?" she called out to the waiter, who nodded and brought two full mugs over.

Dean claimed the seat closest to her. "Yeah, Sam takes a long time to make himself look pretty in the morning," Dean explained, shooting his brother a look. Sam just rolled his eyes. "Oh, and these," he said, presenting her with the lilies, "are for you."

Gemma gasped as she looked at the flowers. "Oh, Dean! They're beautiful!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a hug. "Thank you so much!"

Dean smiled smugly at Sam with a look that said '_I told you so'_ and handed her the flowers.

As soon as Gemma touched the lilies, they began to wilt and wither. She dropped them onto the table suddenly, as if they were burning hot and she quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone had noticed what had just happened. But the waiter was in the kitchen and the older woman appeared to be engrossed in her magazine. Feeling slightly relieved, she realized there was still two people who had witnessed her weirdness. Gemma slowly turned back to her company and took in several deep breaths.

Sam was staring at the dead flowers with a furrowed brow and Dean was looking at Gemma with an expression on his face that told her he was in deep thought. They looked at each other, silently communicating with only their eyes. After a minute or two, Dean nodded and they turned back to a clammy Gemma.

She was taking a long drink from her mug and although she looked as though she hadn't slept in a week, her cheeks had a little more color to them. She placed her empty cup back onto the table.

"Gemma," Sam began while wondering what on earth had just happened. He reached out to take her resting hand, but she pulled it back.

"I don't want to hurt you too, Sam." Gemma grabbed her purse and fumbled to open it. "I'll pay and you guys won't have to see me again. Just please don't tell anyone about what just happened."

"Please, Gemma, sit down. We're not gonna judge you. We just want to ask you a few questions." Sam's Puppy Dog Eyes and kind tone convinced her to do as she was asked. He suspected what was going on and asked a question that would tell him if he had the right idea. "When did this start happening?"

Gemma was confused._ Why is he Sam asking me this when he could be running as far away from me as possible or telling me that I'm some sort of strange person? _"I'm not too sure. Maybe about a year ago?"

"Wait a minute," Dean interrupted when Sam opened his mouth to speak again. "What is 'this' exactly?"

Sam shot him a hard look, a telling off for being so rude and abrupt.

"What?" Dean asked, shrugging his shoulders, "We need to know what we're dealing with."

"I know we do, Dean, but-"

"It's OK, Sam, really," Gemma reassured him. She had seen her own siblings fight enough at home, and she didn't want to see the Winchesters do it too. "You two have a right to know what's up, especially you, Sam."

Dean and Sam stopped arguing immediately and listened intently.

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><p><strong>Review please!<strong>


	6. Freak

**I'll give you two chapters (maybe three) cause I'm feeling generous. My friends came over and we watched _Supernatural_ all day. It was fab, and _Bad Day at Black Rock _was a hilarious as ever. Ahh, thank you Eric Kripke for making my life complete.**

**I own nothing. Yet.**

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><p>Gemma took a breath and explained quietly so the other customer couldn't hear. "I can take the life out of things and transfer it into something else." She looked down when the brothers didn't reply. "I'm a freak," she muttered quietly.<p>

Sam ignored her previous protest and took her hands in his own. "You are not a freak, and don't let anybody tell you that you are."

Gemma raised her head and her eyes were damp. All she could see in Sam's face was affection and honesty. "Thanks, Sammy. You always knew how to cheer me up."

Dean cleared his throat loudly and both Sam and Gemma jumped, letting go of each other's hands.

"So, uh," Sam began. He felt rather awkward after realizing that Dean had seen the way he had been looking at Gemma. "Could you transfer the life back into those flowers?"

Gemma shook her head. "Once I've taken something's life, nothing can bring it back. Not even me. I could give it to something else, but since the flowers were already dying, it has to be something that's a similar size or smaller."

"Do you mean like..." Dean thought for a moment. "A bug or something?"

"If you wanted to put the life back into a bug, sure." Gemma grinned at Dean's suggestion. "But it could heal an injury as well."

Sam placed his arm back onto the table and rolled up his sleeve. "Do you mean something like this?" he asked, gesturing to a bruise about the size of a quarter on his forearm.

Gemma looked at the injury and nodded. "Yeah, something like that. Do you want me to heal it?"

"Could you try?"

Sam and Dean watched Gemma as she took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, like she was meditating. She rested her hands over the injury and pushed down onto it hard. Sam looked surprised as he felt a slight tingling in his arm, but when Gemma took her hands away, the bruise was still there.

She looked slightly exhausted, but even more shocked. "I don't get it. It usually works."

"Maybe you're immune like you were with Andy Gallagher," Dean suggested to Sam, who gave him a 'Shut-up or die' sort of look, but Gemma's interest was caught.

"Who's Andy Gallagher?" she inquired, looking at both the brothers in turn.

"It doesn't matter right now," Sam replied rather curtly. "Can you try it on Dean?"

Dean held out his left hand. There was a small cut on the back of it, but it was pretty deep.

"Yeah, I can try again." Gemma raised her hands, and then decided to say what she was thinking. "Have you guys been mugged or something?"

"Or something," Dean muttered as she repeated what she did to Sam.

Dean felt a warm sensation fill his hand and surprise filled his face as the little pain that he felt from the cut disappeared. He glanced up in time to see Gemma turn a sickly pale color and slump back in her chair.

But Sam didn't seem to have noticed her. He took Dean's hand and carefully examined it. Where the cut was only moments ago was now a tiny scar, and Sam felt amazed as he watched it grow smaller and smaller until it vanished completely.

"That's amazing, Gemma," Sam commented, letting go of Dean's hand. He looked up and saw how tired his friend looked and concern took over his face. "Are you OK? You look-"

"Like crap?" Gemma asked. She grinned.

"To put it lightly," Sam replied with a worried look.

"Really, it's nothing to worry about," Gemma insisted, looking Sam in the eye. She knew that he would probably not believe her. "When I got sick, the whole healing thing became harder to control. It's like…" She tried to think how explain it, "Since I felt tired this morning when I came here, my body took the life from the lilies to revitalize me a little without my consent. But I can only heal when _I_ want to, not my body. I guess it's selfish." Gemma sighed. "I know it's confusing, but…"

"So why can't you heal yourself?" Dean asked. "Why are you still sick?"

Gemma shrugged. "A cat's the biggest thing I've ever taken life from. Don't get me wrong, it was a complete accident, but I only felt better for a couple of hours. I guess that I'd need a large source of life to rid myself of the cancer, and I don't want to kill for my sake."

The brothers processed this for a minute, and Sam had to admit that he was proud of his friend. Most people would have injured others by now to heal themselves.

Dean finally broke the silence. "Could you excuse us for a moment?" He flashed her a grin and roughly grabbed Sam's arm and dragged him out of the diner. When they were alone outside, he let go of his brother. "So, do you think she's like you?" he asked gruffly.

Sam let out a long breath. "Everything seems to point to it. For one, she _has_ abilities, and they don't affect me."

"Can't I have a stinkin' holiday," Dean complained rather loudly, kicking a garbage bin next to him, "for just _once_ in my life?"

Sam ignored him and continued. "She said that she's had them for about a year and…"

"What?" Dean pressed. "What is it, Sammy?"

Sam looked Dean in the eyes. "Remember when we were talking last night? She said that the most serious accident she had ever been in was a house fire. Maybe she fits the pattern. What if it was when she was six months old?"

Dean could almost see the wheels turning in Sam's head when the younger hunter kicked the same bin that Dean had. "I never thought this was important until now, but she always mentioned her father, Dean. And her stepmother."

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><p><strong>Oooh, it's getting intense. Even for me, the person who conceived and wrote this sucker. Please review to tell me what you thought! x<strong>


	7. Telling The Truth

After their discussion outside, Sam and Dean had decided to take the conversation with Gemma somewhere a little more private, and she had invited them to come over to her place. Dean wanted to tell her about everything they knew as soon as they reached her house: she deserved to know the truth. But Sam, even though he trusted Gemma, wanted to make absolute sure before they ruined her life.

"So, Gemma," Dean began, sitting down next to her on the sofa. He thought hard about how he could make this sound like curiosity, even though he was a hundred percent sure that Yellow-Eyes had gotten to her as well. "What's up with the fire you told us about last night? Were you hurt?"

"Not that I can think of. I thing that dad managed to get to me just before the fire spread." Gemma felt and looked puzzled. She had just told one of her best friends and his older brother that she had a freaky ability and they were asking her about something she couldn't remember? "Sorry, but I can't really go into the details. I was less than a year old when it happened. But my mom died in it."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Dean said with real sympathy. Gemma wouldn't remember her mother as well as he remembered Mary, but it didn't mean that she wasn't still hurting over it.

"It's really OK. All she really is to me is some old photos and memories from dad. She gave me life, and I'm grateful for that, but my step-mom, Helen, is practically my mother. She's the one who raised me, and she's treated me just like she treated my half-brother." She sighed. "It's just annoying..."

"What is?" Sam asked. Apart from hearing about this brother, Fraser, he had never heard much about Gemma's background.

She smiled sadly at him. "People feeling sorry for you when they find out you're motherless. They just butter on the pity and put you into the category of 'delicate' before they even know that you don't have a single memory of the person." She stared intently at the pillow that was on her lap, her eyes shining with tears. She blinked them away when she realized that she had been talking about herself since they had arrived home. "But enough about me. How are Mr. And Mrs. Winchester? I never heard much about them at Stanford."

An awkward silence followed, neither of the brothers sure how to answer the question. "Our dad passed away earlier this year," Dean offered after a while.

"I'm sorry to hear that. At least you have plenty of good memories with him, right?" Gemma asked, hoping the reply would be 'Yes'.

This time, Sam answered first. He wanted to be honest with Gemma, knowing that Dean would sugarcoat their father's life as he always had. "He wasn't around much when we were kids. In fact, he hasn't ever really been around. He was rather obsessed with..." he glanced at Dean. "...work."

"Oh...so your mom pretty much raised you by herself?"

"Um...not really. Our mom died when I was four," Dean answered, knowing that this would make the conversation a little more awkward. "And Sammy here was six months old."

"That must've been hard for..." Gemma trailed off. "Wait, did you say Sam was six months old? That's how old I was when the fire I was in happened."

"Yeah, we figured that," Dean replied. He cleared his throat. "Look, Gemma, you're not the only one out there who has these abilities. Well, maybe the whole give-life-take-life thing, but others out there can do weird things too." He motioned for Sam to take over.

Sam dragged his seat a little closer to the sofa and took a deep breath. "Andy Gallagher, the guy we mentioned before, can convince you to do anything with a single word. We've met a guy with telekinesis, and me...well, I can see people's deaths before the happen. I bet there's more of us out there, and we're all connected. All of our powers started happening about a year ago, and most of us were in fires when we were six months old where our mothers died. A demon is behind all of it."

To the brothers' surprise, Gemma smiled and let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.

"Wait a minute, you're _happy _about this?" Sam asked, completely shocked.

"Heck yes!" Gemma exclaimed. She looked like she wanted to hug Sam for bringing her good news. "To know that I'm not the only one out there who can do…" she searched for the right word, "strange stuff...it's a relief!"

"And you believe us, just like that? I mean, come on, it sounds crazy!" Dean said.

Gemma gave them a look that seemed to say _Duh!_ "No one has come to me with any kind of explanation. If anything, I reckon you guys are the ones who should think that _I'm_ crazy. Plus, I've known Sam for at least four years, and he's never lied to me before."

Sam gulped guiltily. He decided that now wasn't the best time to tell Gemma that he had lied to her on countless occasions about his past and family. "Well, you're in danger. There are people out there who are looking for you. Have you ever seen anyone with yellow eyes?"

"Yellow eyes?" Gemma thought for a moment. "Not that I can think of. But what did you say about a demon?"

Sam's answer was interrupted by a short, sharp knock at the door. Gemma glanced down at her watch. "Crap! I forgot about my appointment at the hospital! That'll be Marty."

"We'll get going then," Dean said, standing up to leave. Gemma walked them over to the door and reached out for the handle.

"Wait a minute, Gemma," Sam asked. "Promise me that you'll call straight away if anything strange, suspicious or yellow comes up, OK?"

"OK, Sam. I promise." She opened the door to reveal a thin man wearing a white cowboy hat a blue shirt. He had dark eyes and was few inches taller than Sam.

"Hey, Marty." Gemma greeted. "Sorry, I kind of forgot about the appointment, so could you give me a few minutes to get ready? Oh," she stood aside to let the Winchesters out, "This is Sam and Dean. They're old friends."

"Awesome hat, man," Dean complimented, sticking out his hand.

Marty glanced down at the shorter man and looked at Gemma. "I'll wait for you in the car," he stated in a heavy Texan accent, turning on his heel without giving either brother a second glance.

Dean lowered his hand. "Well, he's…nice."

"He's been acting a bit strange lately," Gemma explained. "He said his mom was pretty sick, and I think they're pretty close."

"Do you mind if we come over when you get back?" Sam asked. "We've got some more things we need to tell you."

"Yeah, that'd be great actually!" Gemma exclaimed. "I've got a few questions I'd like to get answered." She grinned. "I think I've got another six-pack in the fridge, and the Chinese take-out down the road isn't too bad."

Sam nodded eagerly, like her proposal was the best thing he had ever heard. "Great. Let's say we come over around seven-thirty?"

"Seven-thirty it is then." Gemma agreed. "See you then!" She closed the door and as the boys walked back to the Impala, Dean could've sworn that Sam was blushing.

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><p><strong>I would ask you to review, but even all you guys who have a story alert on this story are amazing! Plus you seem to do it without any encouragement...<strong>


	8. Before Jess

**And my final upload of the day...**

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><p>"So, Sammy," Dean said, pulling up a chair next to his brother, "I discovered something today." He carefully balanced the chair on the back two legs and put up his feet on the table. He then cupped his hands and rested his head on them.<p>

Sam glanced up from _Norse Mythology and Legends_ to look at his brother. "Yeah, and what would that be, Dean?" he asked nonchalantly, turning the page of the book.

"I discovered why you wanted to drive over a thousand miles to see your college buddy." Dean leaned forward until his chair slammed onto the ground. He then smiled cheekily at Sam, like he knew the biggest secret in the world. Or like he was had the best thing to blackmail his younger brother with. "You," he said, poking Sam rather hard in the chest, "like her."

Annoyance and shock appeared on Sam's face. "What?" he exclaimed, "That's ridiculous! I don't _like _her."

"Yes, Sam, you _do_ like Gemma," Dean laughed. He was enjoying his brother's discomfort. "I first figured it out when I saw the way you jumped at the chance for an excuse to see her, then how you are so excited whenever she invites us over. It's the way you blush whenever you see her, and how, even though you've known each other forever, you still pretend that you're 'just friends'. All the signs point to it, and now all you can do is man up and confess that I'm right!" Dean smiled as he rounded up and he stared at Sam intently, waiting for him to admit to his crush.

After a few awkward moments, Sam looked away from. "Fine Dean," he said sharply, "Yes, I _do_ like her."

"See, that wasn't that hard, was it?" Dean clapped his brother's back and stood up to get a victory drink of coffee.

"And I've liked her ever since I first met her," Sam continued in the same harsh tone. "But then she introduced me to Jess, and I felt like she was blowing me off without ever really giving me a chance. Don't get me wrong, I loved Jess, but I'll never really get over Gemma and the way I felt about her." Sam carried on his rant. He was obviously hurting. "And now, seeing her after all this time, and knowing that she doesn't have much time left, it just…it just-" he cut off and looked up at Dean who was standing with the fridge half-opened, "It just kills me, Dean. It kills me to know that my chance to be normal is going to die, and there's nothing I can do about it because it isn't some pain-in-the-butt monster." He blinked back tears. "So, yeah, I guess you could accuse me of liking her."

Dean let go of the fridge door and it creaked shut, breaking the silence. He stared at his brother, taken back by his outburst. While he had only been teasing Sam before, he now felt slightly ashamed. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I didn't know that that's how you felt about her…" He looked down at the ground. "I'm sorry…" He waited for Sam's reassurance that it was OK, that they were cool, but in its place came short sharp breaths, like someone was hyperventilating.

He rushed over to Sam and took him by the shoulders. His baby brother had turned pale and sweaty, and he was staring off into nothingness. "Sam!" Dean called, trying to shake him back to reality. "Come back to me, bro. Sammy!"

_Bang! The shot rang in the cold night air and it echoed around the junkyard. Dean dropped to his knees and then collapsed onto his side. _

"_Dean!" Gemma screamed. She struggled against her captor's grip, causing his hat to blow off._

_He turned his gun on Sam. "I guess that he can have only one of you freaks!" he announced, his dark eyes filled with glee. _

"_Please, no!" Gemma begged desperately. She clinged tightly to the man's arm and shut her eyes firmly. The man collapsed like a rag-doll, falling hard against a faded blue sign. She ran to Dean and knelt down beside him. "Sam!" she called. "No, not him. Anyone but him. Sam, come quickly!"_

_He stumbled towards them. Dean was too still. Far too still to be alive. He reached out to turn the him. "No," he sobbed, "No!"_

_Blood seeped from the bullet wound and it soaked Dean's shirt. Although he knew it was completely useless, Sam tried to apply pressure to it. _

"_No," he groaned once again, collapsing onto Dean's chest, not caring about the amount of blood that was there. "No…"_

"Sam! Snap out of it!"

Dean's face swam before Sam's eyes and it slowly came into focus. He realized that he had fallen to the ground, and Sam's heart sank. Dean knew about the vision, and he was going to ask about it. Dean _was_ the vision…and so was Gemma. He shakily climbed to his feet and grabbed the front of Dean's shirt. "We need to go."

"Whoa, slow down a bit!" Dean tried to usher Sam to a seat, but he wouldn't sit down. "What did you see, Sam? And don't tell me it was nothing!"

But Sam didn't listen. "We need to go to Gemma's house. Right now!"

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><p><strong>Bringing up the whole Jess thing might've been kind of risky, but oh well, hopefully you like my description of Sam and Gemma's history. Reviews=love! x<strong>


	9. O'Connell's

**I'm starting to feel slightly pressured...what if you don't like what I'm writing? What if my story is a dud? What if the story's ending dissapoints you (yes, I have written it)? But I guess that's all the part of being an author. Thanks again for all you fantastic support and for giving me a reason to continue writing! I'm so grateful to you all!**

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><p>"Sam, what did you see?" Dean pressed urgently while driving as fast as he could in the late-evening traffic. They had gotten in the car ten minutes previously and Sam had still not mentioned anything about his vision.<p>

"She's not answering her phone," Sam replied dejectedly, apparently unaware of Dean's question. "I've tried her house and her cell phone. I don't know what else to do-"

"Sammy!" Dean interrupted. "Breathe, OK?" He looked over at his brother when they stopped at a red light. "Tell me what you saw. Was it Gemma who...you know?"

Sam shook his head and sighed. "It was you, Dean. You died."

The answer gave Dean such a surprise that he almost missed the green light. "Wait, what? _I _died?"

"We were at…" Sam closed as he tried to recall what he had seen in the vision, "…a junkyard or auto-wreckers. There was a blue sign. It said O'Connell's or something."

"O'Connell's?" Dean asked. "I think I saw something like that when we were driving in to this town." He glanced at Sam and saw the concerned look on his face. "Calm down, we'll go there if Gemma's not at home. Explain the rest to me."

Sam told Dean how Gemma was being held captive and how the man had shot Dean. He said how the bullet was a perfect shot and how it had gone right through his chest.

Just as he finished giving the details, the Impala pulled onto Gemma's street. Sam was out of the car and at the gate before the car had completely stopped. By the time Dean had parked and shut his door, Sam was pounding on the front door. "Gemma!" he yelled over and over again. He tried turning the door handle, but it was locked.

"Wait a minute Sam," Dean called out as he ran up the worn pathway. "It's only ten to seven. She might not be back from her hospital appointment yet," Dean tried to reassure himself as well as Sam, "Or maybe she's gone somewhere with-"

"Marty!" Sam exclaimed as he turned to face Dean. He grabbed his brother's arm and shook it as he thought back to his vision once again. "He's the person in my dream, Dean. He's the one who kidnaps Gemma. He's the one who kills you."

"But he seemed so nice," Dean scoffed as he followed Sam back to his baby. The sleek black car reflected the setting sun clearly. "Did he look like he was possessed?" Dean questioned as he put the keys in the ignition.

Sam slammed the door shut and thought hard. "I'm not too sure. I couldn't see him clearly."

"Well, we need to be prepared for demon, shape shifter, or even just a normal guy. Well, a twisted normal guy." He reversed out of the driveway and turned the car back in the direction they had come. "Everything's in the trunk-" he turned to face Sam, "Just promise me that you won't do anything rash, OK?"

Sam nodded and fiddled with his phone. He felt completely useless.

"Try to find out more about O'Connell's," Dean suggested, trying to give his brother a distraction, "and see if you can figure out exactly where it is."

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><p>"Thanks for your help. OK. Bye." Sam snapped his phone shut. Even though he had sounded generally calm during the conversation he had just had, the air was tense.<p>

"So?" Dean asked. He had been looking for O'Connell's for the last twenty minutes, but it hadn't appeared yet. "Where is this place?"

"O'Connell's Junkyard and Auto-Wreckers is a few miles out of town," Sam replied. He gestured for Dean to turn right and continued speaking. "It closed down nearly fifteen years ago, but it's so big that no one bothered trying to move any of the rubbish."

"So how are we gonna find Gemma if she's there?" Dean inquired with a tone of worry.

"We were surrounded by cars. I reckon we should at least start there." Sam leaned against the door and pulled out a map they had bought when they had arrived in Blue Lake and trailed his finger along the direction they were driving in.

He would never tell his brother, but Dean was scared. They were travelling right to the place where he was going to be shot. _It's just another day at the office, Dean. You know what you're getting yourself into when you get out of bed each day. Plus, Gemma could be in trouble, and we need to save her. _Dean sighed. His stupid head was right. Gemma was the most important one here, not Sam and not even himself. He pressed the accelerator to the floor and the Impala sped down the empty road.

The steady hum of the engine was the only sound that filled the air for the next few minutes and it calmed both the brothers down. The sound was familiar and soothing. But suddenly Sam yelled. "Just ahead! Turn left!"

The warning was a little later than Dean would have liked, but he yanked the steering wheel and the car veered left. Smooth asphalt turned to a bumpy dirt road. A large faded sign stating the name of the Impala's current location was barely visible from behind a shabby bush, and as they passed it, the first signs of a junkyard appeared.

The deeper they drove into the dump, the bigger the rubbish got. Tables and broken chairs turned into old fridges and washing machines, which turned into cars that were wrecked far beyond repair.

"Stop here!" Sam commanded suddenly and the Dean slammed his foot on the brake. Sam jumped out of Impala and wandered through several piles of cars, searching for the place he had seen in his vision.

Dean followed him, gun at the ready. He was desperately hoping that Sam wouldn't get them lost. After several minutes, a cold voice greeted them when they turned a corner.

"Well, well, well," the Texan accent said as Dean nearly collided into Sam because of his sudden stop, "if it ain't the Winchester boys, here to save the day. Ain't that nice, Gemma?"

Dean walked around to Sam's side and he found himself looking at Marty, who had his arm around a near unconscious Gemma's neck and a gun in his free hand. "He said you'd come," Marty said, raising the gun to Gemma's head. "Now I'd drop any weapons you have on you and take a few steps back unless you want me to decorate them cars with your little girlfriend's brains."

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><p><strong>Yeah, you all guessed that Marty was dodgy. Congrats. Me and <span>Weirdness-is-cool<span> are currently working on a story. It's in the _very_ early stage, but I'm sure you'll all like it! Thanks!**


	10. Destiny

Sam glanced over at Dean and reached behind his back when the older hunter nodded. He placed his gun onto the ground and took a step back. Dean lowered his gun reluctantly and threw it down next to Sam's then joined his brother. They both raised their hands.

But Marty had obviously been told about the Winchesters. "And that cute little knife of yours, Dean, if you would be so kind."

Dean sighed as he reached into his boot, pulled out his knife and added it to the growing pile of weapons.

"Well, he was sure right when he said you boys were always prepared," Marty commented. The remark was followed by an uncontrolled snigger. "Oh, and just to put you out of your misery, I'm not possessed

Dean and Sam glanced at each other. They were both thinking the same thing: _This guy is obviously plain nuts._ But neither of them verbalized it. Instead, Sam asked something else that was bugging him. "Marty, who is 'he'?"

Marty scoffed. "Wait," he said, raising his eyebrows in surprise, "You two clowns don't know who I'm talkin' about?" He let out another maniacal laugh. "He told me to say hi to you. I think that you two should know him pretty well. Wanna take a guess who it is I'm talkin' about?"

"I'm not really in the mood for games at the moment, sorry," Dean replied, staring intently at the gun in Marty's hand that was now moving between him and Sam.

"Give up then?" Marty smiled like they were giving up on guessing the most obvious answer in the world. "It's good old Yellow-Eyes, of course!"

The Winchesters were both surprised. "Wait, what?" Dean asked. "You've been talking with that…that-"

"Truly generous guy? Yeah, for a few months now. He said that I'd be safe when all the hullabaloo started as long as I gave him Gemma and little Sammy here. He would've been here tonight, but he told me that last time you saw him, you tried to kill him." Marty tutted and then smiled wickedly. "Now, that didn't sound very nice."

"Safe from what, Marty?" Sam asked. For the past few moments he had been slowly edging towards Marty, and he wanted to keep the conversation going so he could maintain the distraction.

"From your destiny, Sammy-boy! From what you and Little Miss Princess here are gonna become and do!" Marty announced.

Sam stopped in his tracks. "My destiny?" he asked.

"Yes, your destiny. And Yellow Eyes said you were the smart one," Marty replied sharply. The last comment earned him an annoyed look from Dean. "Oh wait, you don't know what I'm talkin' about, _again_?" He laughed like he had just heard the funniest joke in the world.

The laughter pulled Gemma's mind back to reality and she moved from within Marty's grip. "Sam?" she groaned. She was very confused. "Dean?" Her eyes widened as remembered what had happened over the past few hours: travelling with Marty to their current location, being told by her apparent friend that her and Sam were going to be taken to a demon, trying to get out of the locked car, and then being hit on the head because she wouldn't stop struggling. "Marty, please don't hurt them. They haven't done anything. They're just nice, normal guys."

"Nice? _Normal_?" Marty sneered. "These two are the exact opposite. To start with, they hunt monsters for a living!"

"Yeah, well you're cooperating with one!" Dean spat back.

"I would watch your mouth, Mr. Winchester," Marty threatened, raising the gun to Gemma's head again. "Anyway," he said, addressing Gemma once again, "I know all about Sam's freaky little visions, and don't even get me started on your healin' thing, missy. Now," Marty aimed the gun at Sam, "I'm getting' bored. Why don't you get into that car over there so we can be on our way?" He pointed to a truck that was so beat up it blended in to the junkyard.

"Look, man," Dean tried to reason. He took a step forward and clearly raised his hands, "Why don't we just sit down and talk this whole mess out? No matter what Yellow-Eyed freak told you, he doesn't want to protect you. He's using you." He took another step. "So why don't you let go of Gemma and give me the gun."

"Yeah? Well guess what 'buddy'," Marty said, turning to Dean, "That Yellow-Eyed 'freak' didn't say a thing about havin' to bring in a third guy." Without any warning, Marty pointed his gun at Dean and pulled back the trigger.

The gunshot echoed throughout the junkyard. The bullet hit Dean's chest, a bulls-eye shot, and he looked down at his front, astonished. He clutched the wound as he collapsed, falling from his knees to the ground within seconds.

"Dean!" Gemma screamed, struggling against Marty's strong hold on her.

He tried to hold her still while keeping his gun steady, but her movement caused his hat to blow off and flutter to the ground.

Sam dived for the pile of weapons and grabbed for one of the guns, but Marty already had his aimed at Sam. "I guess that he can have only one of you weirdos then!" he announced, his dark eyes filling with glee.

"Please, don't! No!" Gemma begged desperately, but Marty didn't listen. So she grabbed his hand and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that her power would work this time. It did.

The last thing Marty felt before he collapsed was an electric prickling throughout his whole body, and then overwhelming tiredness, almost as though the life had been sucked out of him. He hit his head hard against a faded blue sign that read 'O'Connell's' as he fell, and didn't move again.

A free Gemma ran over to Dean. He was sprawled out on the ground and although it was dirty, his face looked peaceful. But it was too peaceful for Gemma's liking, and he was too still. "Sam!" she yelled to her friend. "Why did it have to be him?" she muttered as an afterthought. Her lip trembled as she remembered back to her first-aid training that she took in high school, and she applied pressure to the bullet hole. It was only then that she realized Sam was still not at her side. "Sam! Come quickly!"

Sam was still lying on the ground, Dean's favourite gun in his hand. He was too shocked to move and Gemma's frantic calls didn't coax him to budge an inch. It was only when the pile of cars towering over Gemma and Dean started to sway in the sudden wind that he stumbled towards them.

Gemma hadn't noticed the danger, but it was when Sam grabbed his brother under the arms and began to drag him away that she realized there was a hazard. She took Dean's legs and, together, she and Sam carried him back to the Impala then laid him on the ground. By this time, she was sobbing uncontrollably and Sam seemed to still be in shock.

_I knew this was going to happen. _He thought back to his vision, and what had just happened matched it exactly. Marty had been holding Gemma captive in front of the O'Connell's sign, Dean had been standing in front of the destroyed cars. _And I just stood there and let it happen… _"No," Sam muttered. He then yelled louder, "No!"

He fell to his knees and collapsed onto his older brother's chest, crying into it. Sam could feel Gemma stroking his hair comfortingly, but she didn't say a word. Instead, tears just fell silently from her eyes. After a few minutes he sat up and rubbed at his eyes, but there was not point. The waterworks hadn't stopped yet.

Sam watched as Gemma gingerly fingered Dean's fatal wound and wiped the mud off his sweaty face. "Did you see this, Sam?" she asked quietly. "Did you know this was going to happen?"

He nodded as more tears escaped his eyes and looked at the ground, but the image of his dead brother burned bright in his mind. "And I didn't do a thing to stop it," he sobbed.

Gemma took in a deep breath and tilted back Sam's head so that he was looking into her eyes. "Listen, Sam. I have an idea."

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><p><strong>Thanks for your reviews on this one guys! <strong>


	11. Always

**I know this is a short one, but it's got some stuff in it. One more chapter after this and you'll finally be put out of your misery. Yeah! I'm warning you now: it's a sad one.**

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><p>Sam stared into Gemma's green eyes and realized what she was thinking. "No," he said boldly, shaking his head, "No, you can't."<p>

Gemma rolled her eyes. "I _can_, Sam. I didn't kill Marty, but I think I took enough life out of him to do it. I feel so much stronger."

Sam looked at his friend carefully. He would never have guessed that she was sick unless he already knew. Her cheeks were full of color and she didn't seem to be so tired.

When he didn't respond, Gemma continued. "And if I combined it with some of my own life, I can-"

Sam shook his head desperately and Gemma pressed a hand to his cheek. "These past few days have been amazing. I was afraid I would die without seeing you one last time."

"Please, Gemma, don't do this." Sam took her hand and held it tight. "You were exhausted after healing a cut. What happens if you don't make it? I love you…please."

Gemma leaned over Dean and kissed Sam's lips then leaned her forehead against his. "The world needs Dean more than you and I need a few more weeks together," she whispered. Sam took in her scent, a mix of vanilla and honey, and stared into her beautiful eyes. "I'm going to die anyway, Sammy, and I'd rather this than in some hospital bed."

She slid her hand out of Sam's grip and after one last tender look at her true love, she closed her eyes and pressed hard against Dean's chest.

It was all over within a few seconds, but to Sam it felt like forever. He watched Gemma's face grow paler and paler and her body slump lower and lower. When she took her hands off his brother, she sat back, tired but smiling, Sam was amazed to see her still breathing. He grinned at her, fresh tears tracking down his face, and then looked down at Dean.

Dean wasn't moving, but just like the injury had at Blue Lake Diner earlier that day, the wound shrunk and blood stopped flowing from it. The color slowly returned to his face and Sam's smile widened when Dean took in a sharp breath and opened his eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw Sam looking down at him and propped himself up onto his elbows. "Sammy?" he asked hesitantly. Before he could say another word, Sam gave him a hug that had nearly knocked the wind out of him. "Easy, big guy," he said patting his back, "Easy. Wait a minute," he said once he had been released, "wasn't I dead?"

Sam grinned breathlessly as he nodded. "Yeah, well, it's lucky Gemma was here to-Gemma!"

Gemma had fallen from her crouching position to the ground. Sam could barely see her chest moving to take in any oxygen, and any color that had remained in her face was now gone. His smile vanished as he dashed around Dean to her side and picked up her immobile body. "Gemma, please wake up!" He shook her gently and her eyes fluttered open.

"Sam," she said faintly, looking up at his face, "I love you, Sam Winchester. I always have..."

"Shh, don't waste your energy," he pleaded. "Dean," he said desperately, turning to his brother, "Please call an ambulance or something. Please."

But Dean just sat there, watching his Gemma and Sam with tears in his eyes. He knew it was too late to do anything.

"Sam." The almost silent voice pulled his attention back to the person in his arms. Tears dripped from his eyes onto Gemma's face as she took her last breath.


	12. She Truly Succeeded In Life

**Here it finally is my little (yeah, I'm gonna say it and completely regret it later...) minions. The final instalment in my story. I'm feeling weird (crazy is another word to describe it) right now so I'm gonna step away from the computer before anybody gets hurt. But a Happy New Year for tomorrow!**

**And, for the last time (only for this story) I'll say these words:**

**Eric Kripke, the most awesome person in the whole wide world (after Misha Collins, of course) owns all. And I'm actually quite glad that I don't, or the series would be a heck of a lot different. And not in a good way...**

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><p>The next two days seemed to drag on for eternity to Sam.<p>

Marty was in a coma, and his doctors were completely baffled about how he had gotten into it. He had no visible injuries, all the tests they had done on him had come back negative, and his family had no medical history of anything serious enough to put anyone into a coma. It was a complete mystery.

Dean didn't have a single injury on him. His chest showed no signs that he had been shot, every little cut and bruise had disappeared, and even the scars he had had since he was a kid had vanished. He was practically new again.

And according to Gemma's physician, the cancer had taken her sooner than had been predicted. Dr. Harvey and Sheriff Clifton had been told by Dean that Marty had kidnapped her for unknown reasons, and that he and Sam had went there to try to rescue her. Marty had suddenly collapsed, Gemma was hardly breathing when they had gotten to her, and soon after, she had died in his younger brother's arms.

Dean had decided that he and Sam shouldn't go to Gemma's funeral. The younger Winchester had hardly left his bedroom since the junkyard, his only company a bottle of whiskey. Dean tried to talk to his brother whenever he came out to use the bathroom, but Sam would just pretend that he hadn't heard anything. When Dean suggested that they visit Gemma's grave before skipping town, Sam finally responded to him with a single nod.

They arrived at Blue Lake Cemetery half an hour later. The sun shined brightly in the clear sky and the light breeze played with the tree's leaves, but the weather seemed too joyous for the occasion. After ten minutes of searching, Dean called Sam over to Gemma's final resting place.

A marble headstone marked the spot and grass was starting to sprout up through the fresh dirt. There was a single rose lying on the ground. Dean knelt down and reverently placed a fresh bouquet of white lilies that he had picked up earlier that morning in front of the headstone. "Thank you, Gemma," he said quietly, tears springing to his eyes. He hastily wiped them away. "Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me."

He stood up and walked back to Sam, who had been watching this from about ten feet away. He clapped his brother on the back and told him, "I'll be waiting in the car. Just come whenever you're ready."

Once Dean was out of earshot, Sam walked forward to the headstone and dropped to his knees. He read the inscription on it:

_Gemma Leah Marshall_

_17 June 1983 – 15 November 2006_

_To know even one life breathed easier  
><em>_Because she lived is to know  
><em>_She truly succeeded in life._

Sam smiled. Gemma's family had no idea about what had happened at the junkyard, but the quotation seemed to fit it perfectly. Dean had definitely breathed easier. He gently fingered the lilies, thinking of what to say.

"Hey, Gemma," is what he began with. He shook his head at how ridiculous it sounded. He took a breath and continued, "You would probably laugh at me if I told you I had just talked to a headstone. I don't even know if you can hear me. I practically hunt the dead, but I don't know a thing about heaven, which is where you'll definitely be if there is one."

Tears filled his eyes and one rolled down his cheek. "Thank you for saving Dean. I know the cancer was going to eventually kill you, but it could have been later. If anyone deserves a life full of kids and white-picket fences, it is you. You hardly even know Dean. I can't believe that the fact that he is your college buddy's brother was enough to sacrifice yourself for." He laughed miserably when he realized that he had spoken about her as if she was still alive.

"I loved Jess, but you were my first real love. I just hate that it took you dying for me to admit that. I still do love you, and I will never forget you. I wish that we could've had a few more days together, just so I could tell you the truth about my life. But I had to say goodbye."

He paused for a sometime, just staring at the headstone with a single tear track on his cheek. It finally hit him: Gemma Marshall was gone, and she wasn't coming back. There was only one thing to blame for this, and Sam could feel his grief turning into intense anger. "Gemma," he said, his voice shaking slightly, "I promise you that I will not stop hunting that Yellow-Eyed monster until it's dead or I'm dead. It's caused three others to die that I loved, and I swear to you that it won't cause any more."

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><p>Dean had been waiting in the Impala for about ten minutes before Sam came back. The morning had gotten so hot that he had had to take off his jacket and roll down the windows. The weather was unusual for mid-November, but Dean didn't try to think anything of it. He didn't need another case straight after this one.<p>

When Sam got into the car and slammed the door shut, Dean was surprised to see that his brother didn't look the least bit upset. "Sammy, are you OK? If you ever wanna talk about it…" he sighed at how cheesy he was sounding, "Look, I'm here for you if you need me, bro."

Sam gave a short, sharp nod and leaned against the window. He sighed and spoke to Dean without looking at him, "I'm going to find that monster and kill him, even if it's the last thing I do."

Dean revved up the engine and reversed out of the parking space. "For once in my life, Sammy, I couldn't agree with you more."

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><p><strong>Well, it's been fun writing this and getting feedback from you guys. I can truly not express how grateful I am that you take time to tell me that I'm not a failure as an author. Thanks a bunch, and I hope my ending did the rest of the story justice! Out.<strong>


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